Sleep of the Beloved
by poetisa
Summary: Clay Cliff Fortran, the Last Observer, monitors GIS late at night, pausing to watch two Pilots. Yaoi lemon, voyeurism, and some terribly mixed emotions.


Sleep of the Beloved  
  
Rating: R (yaoi, language, some violence)  
  
Genre: Angst, Romance  
  
Pairings: Hiead/Zero, Clay/Saki, (one-sided) Clay/Zero  
  
. indicates thought  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Megami Kouhosei, nor do I own any of its characters. Sugisaki Yukiru created them; Gum Comics and Wani Books printed the story. Bandai, XEBEC, and Studio Emotion brought the action to life; and Cartoon Network taught it the Adult Swim. Trust me, if I did have rights, I would definitely bring out the yaoi potential.  
  
This is a one-shot story, set in the "Angels" arc. Somewhere in GIS, Hiead and Zero sleep, unaware that someone is watching.  
  
Nearly midnight: I wake to the warmth of her skin, her hair, the soft catch in her breathing. The smell of sex mingles with the black currant perfume that she dabs, every morning, at her neck, wrists, and the hollow of her throat. Though I think that Saki Mimori smells, and tastes, sweeter than chilled Ribena on a summer's day.  
  
She sighs, and I lean in, kissing her forehead, playing with her hair. She has soft, vibrant hair: glossy, strong, no split ends or frizzy locks. I've seen how some of the Repairers whisper, when she walks by, especially Tune and Phil. And I have heard the wolf whistles from some of the male staff. Ha. Like she would ever, seriously, give them more than a smile and a quick hello.  
  
She is my vision. My own personal Madonna---she's the definition of divinity.  
  
And I can think of nothing more soothing than to watch my Saki, with those lovely dark eyes.  
  
What is there on my computer that can't wait until morning?  
  
I have things to plan, facts to check, and a project that reaches completion in hours---anything could happen, I tell myself, as I untangle her arms and legs from my body, pressing a pillow into her embrace. Will she wake?  
  
Ease up from the mattress, little by little. No sudden movements. Let her dream. You'll lie beside her again, when you've finished your business. There.   
  
A murmur, and Saki cuddles into the pillow. I slip on a robe, and creep toward my workstation.  
  
The computer glows and hums, ready to make the nightly surveillance sweep.  
  
Even the Last Observer has mundane duties; checking for saboteurs, spies, and the like fall into the mundane category.  
  
All clear, okay Fortran? Now let's have a look-see at the Pilots' quarters. Yu and Kazuhi nestled together on the same futon. He's nuzzling her throat---why does that not look like brotherly affection? Rioroute is sitting up with his digipad, composing another e-mail to Gareas. Oh well, at least he hasn't raided the refrigerators yet. When he got Elidd's last letter, he raced to the kitchens and devoured a freezer full of ice cream. Move on, now. I see that Erts is reviewing a few sketches in his notebook. He took up drawing after his brother's death; he likes to compose portraits, and has a gallery wall for his favorite work. Ready for the next room?   
  
I suck in a breath, adjust my robe, and wait for the cameras to pan through your room, where my webcams follow your every movement between lights out and reveille.  
  
And wouldn't you like to know, Enna, what's so bloody compelling about your room that I keep it wired for sound and vision, with a special timer set to my computer, not to mention a fully loaded DVD burner? Trust me, I couldn't give a flying about the room! What happens there---oh, that is another matter. One which, if I enforced the rules regarding cohabitation between pilots, would have you and Gner drummed out of the service.  
  
Let's just say, I like what I see when the two of you aren't in your Goddesses.  
  
This afternoon, you and Gner got into a vicious fight. Not since our days at GOA have I seen the sort of blood ballet you and he performed. Nor have I felt my eardrums so close to bleeding, what with the screams between kicks and punches.  
  
When I saw the bruise bloom on your right cheek---mirroring the blow you landed on him in the same spot---I flinched a moment. Goddess, did that still happen with you two? That should have been a freak occurrence.  
  
Then again, neither you nor Hiead would qualify as normal Pilots.  
  
But who am I to say what's normal, when my former roommates are leaving the shower, whispering apologies and endearments, your head on his shoulder?  
  
Hiead tilts your chin up, brushing tears away with his free hand.  
  
The two of you pause at the bed you share, just long enough to turn the covers down. He sits, drawing you into his lap.  
  
"It's not safe," you whisper, half in anger. For a moment, I wonder if you've spotted my personal surveillance gear. Only for a moment.  
  
He gazes at you; from the way Hiead sets his jaw, the afternoon's brawl is still fresh, and perhaps you will pick up where you left off. Saki murmurs and coos from the bedroom. I shouldn't linger here; she's waiting, and I do want to feel the soft, solid weight of her body pressed to mine.  
  
And yet I watch. I watch him tousle your hair, a sad smile replacing the hard look. He kisses you, in butterfly fashion, from chin to forehead, catching tears with his tongue.  
  
"You and I both have to face VICTIM. And no, it isn't safe."  
  
He presses his lips to yours, with a gentle persistence, waiting for you to respond.  
  
Remember the lessons you gave me, Zero, when I started dating Saki? The days of learning how to strut, to preen, to shake my money maker. You introduced me to music that probably scandalized people back on 20th Century Earth, so I could serenade her, drive her wild, let her know that her Clay wanted to make up for his latest misdeeds. And then, you showed me how to kiss a girl. There I was, trying to mash my tongue into yours, and you said, 'not like that, Clay---like this.'   
  
And you do, deepening the kiss, your tongue flickering over his lower lip.  
  
Hiead makes a low sound in his throat, tasting your lips the way he eats chocolate: savoring the pliancy of your mouth, the way his tongue duels with yours.  
  
Adjust your robe, there, Fortran, and get comfortable. This is only the beginning.   
  
One would think I hadn't spent the night making love: I can feel the stirring below, where my right hand rests.  
  
You, in the meantime, crush your body to his, molding it as if you were the tide to his shore. He smirks, lowering his lips to the throat you have offered---yes, offered---for his pleasure.  
  
What are you feeling now, Zero, now that he's licking, nibbling, and biting at such a sensitive area? Could anyone make you writhe, the way you are now? If you could see yourself now, lips swollen, eyes glassy with lust, skin rosy with arousal---oh Zero!   
  
And Hiead roves, all hands, lips, and tongue, recalling every action that makes you tremble. How does he do that? How does he dip into your bellybutton, and make it look like he's discovered something new?  
  
I'm not the bashful Candidate you met all those years back. I know my lover's body very well, every crevice, every kiss. I know the difference between soft touches and aggressive strokes. I know, for example, if I sing---in the lowest tones I can do---before I tug at Saki's earlobe, she will shudder and moan.  
  
Yes, the same moans you elicit from him, when you pinch his nipples and roll them between your fingers. Only I haven't yet sussed how you do that without getting jaded.  
  
When Hiead nudges you onto the bed, I have to catch my breath. The sight of you, laid out naked, panting, a gift to some god of love---you're so beautiful, Zero, so painfully beautiful.  
  
If I'm not careful, I'll wake Saki. Take the sash, Clay, and place it between your teeth. There. Tie the ends together, not too tightly, and make a slipknot. Focus. Focus.   
  
And he moves over you, under you, kissing the soles of your feet, licking your toes. He works his way up your legs, parting your thighs.  
  
You groan at the feel of his erection against your own, and raise your hips. He leans in, kissing your face, your shoulders, and your throat.  
  
"Hiead," you breathe, "please."  
  
"Please, what, Rei?" Hiead may call you "Enna" in the training rooms, or "Zero" in the dining halls, but when you're together, he calls you by your given name. And he never uses a casual tone, either: he pronounces your name with the fervor and reverence of a pilgrim.  
  
"Please, Hiead, make love to me. Please fill me, habibi, please let me feel everything. I want you, koishii, love you, love you so much."  
  
"Yes." He reaches for the night table, pulling out two condoms and a bottle of lubricant. "Yes."  
  
Gliding between your legs, he unwraps a condom, trailing kisses down your stomach, and below, teasing you with licks and nips, like an ice cream cone.  
  
I remember the first time I watched you together, back at GOA. You had your legs wrapped around him, lips crushed together, in a fierce thrust-and- pull rhythm. I'm surprised Azuma didn't catch you; I thought everyone had heard the screams. And when you and he held each other, sated and sleepy, I looked for Saki. Yes, Zero, your first coincided with mine. And in the afterglow, I held her, whispered tender words, promised her Zion itself. But---and I hesitate to say it---when I moved in her, I saw your wintry eyes, heard your moans, felt you around me.   
  
A condom-sheathed finger works between your legs, into your opening. When you've relaxed, a second finger follows, then a third, and lastly a fourth. He slows down when you hiss, stops if you whimper from discomfort.  
  
Sometimes I want to be there, taking you, ravishing you until you shout my name. I love Saki, and I will love her till my death. But I want you, Zero, want to claim you, mark you, own you soul and body. I want you as Adam wanted the fruit of Knowledge. I want you never to look at another, only at me. My angel. My sensualist. My glorious temptation. In short, I want what I can't have. What I can never take, for you've given yourself to Hiead Gner.   
  
He slides the second condom onto himself, giving you a deep kiss as he enters. I hear you moan, your bangs dripping with sweat, while he pauses. Once the two of you have adjusted, he moves, spooning you at a gentle pace.  
  
You move to meet him, taking him deeper, legs wrapped around his waist.  
  
Hiead latches your throat between his lips, as the tempo increases. He takes your erection in hand, stroking, now slow, now fast, growling and urgent.  
  
The sash strains against the sides of my mouth. You look even more stunning now. Yes. Oh yes. Hips buck and thrash, and oh goddess, I want you surrounding me, now, now, now.  
  
"Yours," you moan, between kisses and thrusts. He breathes in agreement.  
  
"Mine," you whisper; and he breathes, again, a ragged yes.  
  
Hiead kisses you again, a searing kiss on the mouth, catching the scream in his throat. Blue eyes close, then open, as you clench him to you, sparks wreathing you both.  
  
The force of your climax wrenches his frame, his mouth forming an o, as he shudders and fills you.  
  
There. Now. Yes. Oh goddess, yes.   
  
And he collapses onto you, scrabbling for oxygen.  
  
He slips out of you, pulling down the condom and tying it off. Tears fall down his face; you sit up, kissing him.  
  
"Love you. I love you, Hiead," you whisper, kissing his hands.  
  
"Itooshii," he replies, kissing your hands in reply.  
  
"Koishii," you murmur, staring into his eyes.  
  
He eases the covers over you, cradling you in a tangle of legs and arms.  
  
And I pull at the slipknot, turning off the computer before I stagger to the bathroom.  
  
And I swear, each time, never, never, never to watch you, want you, hate you for making me feel what I don't feel when I am with Saki.  
  
Yet, every night, I return to my midnight sweep. Every night, I come away aching, raw, wanting to trap you in some corridor where he can't see, and she can't hear.  
  
Where no-one knows that Clay Cliff Fortran, Last Observer, betrays his lover and his friend with a glance.  
  
And no-one will know how I hate you, for sleeping so peacefully, in his arms.  
  
  
  
Author's Notes  
  
I am still at work on the two main stories in my arc. Slow progress--- please bear with me!  
  
I realize that this is somewhat strange, but seeing that Zero is (in "Entertaining Angels") giving Clay lessons in being a Sex God, I think it not too farfetched that he might get a bit, er, curious about Enna. And I think that, if he has to monitor GIS, he's going to see Hiead with Zero. And as much as he does love Saki, Clay-sama has to have some thoughts on his mentor in sexiness.  
  
Ribena is a beverage made with black currant juice; it's very high in vitamin C.  
  
Nozomi-san, UE, D-chan, cloa, Lady AA-chan, and everyone who has been reading the Angels arc: y'all all are terrific.  
  
Thank you all so much for reading, for your patience, and for all your feedback. Means a lot to me.  
  
Antoinette (poetisa) 


End file.
